An Elf To Elf Visitation
by CynthiaW
Summary: Seregil's final attempt at wizardry was accidentally sending himself to another plane of existence. This fic re-explores the missing moment from the first book in the Nightrunner series. This time, he finds himself in a land very similar to the land of his birth, but also very different from it. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Seregil's final attempt at wizardry was accidentally sending himself to another plane of existence. This fic re-explores the missing moment from the first book in the _Nightrunner_ series. This time, he finds himself in a land very similar to the land of his birth, but also very different from it. AU.

A/N: While rereading the _Nightrunner_ series, I had an inspiration. How would Seregil react to meeting the Elves of Middle-earth? This story takes place in Middle-earth's Third Age, in the midst of the events of _The Hobbit_.

Also, I have included a glossary at the end of every chapter, containing terms specific to either of these universes.

Disclaimer: I do not own either the _Nightrunner_ series or _The Hobbit_.

" _...Then he really did it, sending himself into another plane."_

" _Plane?" Alec hiccuped, wiping his eyes._

" _It is like another country or world, except that it does not exist in our reality. No one really understands why they exist at all, only that they do and that there are ways to cross into them. But they are dangerous, for the most part, and difficult to return from. Had I not been with him when he did it, he would have been lost. It was then that I was forced to say 'No more'."_

(from _Luck in the Shadows_ by Lynn Flewelling, pp. 198-199)

An Elf to Elf Visitation

Chapter 1

Seregil stepped out of the translocation vortex and immediately collapsed to his hands and knees in the grass. This was worse than when Nysander cast the spell! Closing his eyes, he fought the overwhelming nausea that usually attacked him when he underwent translocation. But this was worse because he'd done it himself. As the first wave passed, he opened his eyes and found that the beautiful garden he was in was nothing like the gardens of the Orëska House, where he'd started.

Like the Orëska garden, a sense of magic permeated the air, and the land reminded him of Aurënen, the country of his birth. He knelt in a beautifully arranged garden, unpaved paths wending through the flower beds to connect to other gardens. To the East lay a huge towering mountain range, which cast long shadows in the late morning light.

There were only two places Seregil could think of where there was a mountain range in the East without a water scape in the West: one would be hated Zengat, the country known to take captives from Aurënen and sell them as slaves elsewhere; the other place was near Sarikali, or even Haman, back in Aurënen. He'd never been to Zengat, though he _had_ heard of it. But he _had_ been to Haman, and the magic in the air was comparable to being in Aurënen.

"No." Seregil sat on his heels, trembling at the thought. He was an Exile. If he was found by Aurënfaie of Haman, they could execute him on sight!

* * *

Elrond sat in his office, going over patrol reports with his seneschal, Glorfindel. Even as his golden-haired friend discussed the current situation in the Misty Mountains, the dark-haired Elf Lord turned to his window in surprise. Something was off.

Glorfindel stopped when he saw the younger elf's distraction. "Elrond? What is troubling you?"

The Lord of Imladris didn't turn back around, his expression puzzled. "I do not know. A strange magic has entered the heart of the valley. It is not evil, but it is foreign."

The blond Elf Lord studied him. "It is within Imladris's borders? How did it enter?"

Elrond finally turned back to face the older elf. "I do not know. It simply appeared in the gardens, and then it disappeared as quickly."

Glorfindel stood up from his seat. "Patrol reports can wait. I shall investigate this immediately."

"Thank you, _mellon-nin_ ," Elrond told him gratefully.

Glorfindel nodded to him as he left.

* * *

Glorfindel headed outside, mentally preparing himself to face whatever Elrond had sensed. In a less-frequented area of the gardens, he stopped at an unexpected sight. An elf-child knelt in the grass, trembling in fear as he looked around him. The boy was, strangely, wearing blue robes of a similar style to Gandalf's. The Elf Lord ignored this, as the child's emotional state was far more important.

He sensed something odd in the boy's _fëa_ as he drew near. His place in the Music seemed off, like he didn't belong in Arda. An Elf not belonging in Arda? This was a very odd feeling. In addition, he sensed a deep pain that was fairly recent. And something akin to an Elven marriage bond that had been interrupted. But the bond was... wrong.

Glorfindel's blue eyes narrowed. The boy was only in his twenties, far too young for such a bond. It was a perversion of a standard Elven marital bond. This foreign elf child had been ill-used, and anything else about him could wait. The Elf Lord rushed to the boy's side and knelt beside him, gathering the slight form into his arms. Whispering soothing words in the boy's ear, he noted that, under the flowing robes, the boy was more physically developed than most Elves his age.

Seregil, still worried about being discovered by other 'faie, was startled when a very tall _ya'shel_ came running over to him in concern. Golden hair flowed down his back, held out of his face by long, thin braids.

When the tall stranger knelt beside him and pulled Seregil close, the young apprentice stiffened. He relaxed into the older man's embrace as soothing words were whispered in his ear in a strangely accented dialect of Aurënfaie. "It will be fine, child. Whatever the problem is, we will fix it. Shhh... Everything will be fine. You are safe, here."

Seregil allowed the comforting warmth to calm him. The _ya'shel_ seemed to radiate calmness and strength. The loving embrace encouraged him to release long pent-up emotions, and the Bôkthersan finally cried over everything that had gone wrong in his life: his father's disappointment, Ilar's seduction, the disaster of that final gathering of the clans, the exile, the failed attempts to find his place among the Tír, and this latest failure as a wizard's apprentice.

As the boy's tears ceased, Glorfindel rose to his feet, keeping a protective arm about the child's shoulders.

Seregil, feeling calmer now, turned slightly to look up at the older man. This half-'faie was close to seven feet tall, an unusual height, even for humans. A bit nervously, he said, "Uh, sir? Thanks for helping me."

Glorfindel gave the boy a reassuring squeeze, puzzled by the accent he spoke in, but willing to wait to find out what was going on. "Not at all, child. You are an elf in need. Whatever aid you require will be given to you." Beginning the walk to the house, he asked, "So what is your name, child?"

Seregil was confused. How did he _not_ know? Still, he answered the question. "I am Seregil í Korit Solun Meringil Bôkthersa." True, he had no right to the name anymore, but this situation seemed to call for one's formal name.

Glorfindel cocked his head in confusion. "That is a very impressive name. But what does it mean?"

"Seregil is my name, Korit is my father, Solun is my grandfather, Meringil is my great-grandfather, and Bôkthersa is where I'm from. It is our _fai'thast_." While he was grateful that the older 'faie didn't seem to be aware of his exile, Seregil was still confused as to _how_ he hadn't heard.

"I am unfamiliar with this term. What is a... _fai'thast_?" Glorfindel hesitated on the strange word, puzzling over it in his head.

Seregil stopped in his tracks, forcing his companion to halt. How could he _not_ know a basic Aurënfaie word like this? "It is a clan's home territory, the land the clan occupies and protects." Shaking his head, he looked back up at the blond. "So, what's your name, sir?"

Glorfindel studied the boy. His own history was well-known to every Elf in Middle-earth. He decided that Seregil's youth and recent fear must have made him forgetful. "I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower in the lost city of Gondolin."

Seregil stared at the man. He didn't recognize the name of the city. The lordship made no sense at all, as Aurënfaie didn't use such titles. Trying to make sense of this, he latched onto the one thing Glorfindel hadn't said that he knew anything about. "Who is your father?"

The elf blinked in surprise. No one had asked him that in a _very_ long time. "Child, I am so old that telling you my father's name would mean little to you. There are few left on these shores that even knew him, let alone his name."

Seregil lowered his eyes in thought. The man didn't look _that_ old, maybe his father's age. And what did he mean by 'on these shores'? And then, he recalled that there were 'faie still alive who remembered his great uncle Corruth í Glamien, who disappeared 7 generations of Tír ago. "Sir, how is that possible? The oldest Aurënfaie I know is Brythir í Nien of Silmai, and _he's_ 430 or so. Few get much older than that."

Glorfindel laughed a tinkling laugh of amusement. "I understand why you would see that as old, my boy. But I am far older than that. The Lord Elrond is older than that, and I am far older than he."

Astonished, Seregil decided to wait on this age thing, and grasped onto the other bit of information Glorfindel gave. "Who is Elrond?"

Glorfindel didn't think he could be any more surprised. Elrond's history was as well-known as his own. "Lord Elrond is the Lord of Imladris." He indicated the house and the gardens around them. "The _Edain_ know this valley as Rivendell."

Seregil was very confused. He was starting to suspect he wasn't where he'd thought he was. "Who... are _Edain_?"

"Humans." Glorfindel furrowed his brows in puzzlement. This boy did not appear to be familiar with basic Sindarin. "The word should be well-known. It has been in use for millennia. It was invented by Noldorin Elves. Even those with little contact with mortals know the term."

Seregil stared at him. "Elves? I haven't heard anyone call us 'elves' before. Of course, I've never heard of a Noldorin, either." Glorfindel stared. He certainly _looked_ like a Noldorin. "We are Aurënfaie."

Glorfindel blinked. _There_ was a strange word. "We will figure this out when we see Elrond." He led Seregil inside, to Elrond's office. As Lord of Rivendell, the younger Elf Lord usually met with all of the guests of the valley. In this case, they would need to find out what was going on here.

* * *

Glossary

Orëska – an order of wizards in the _Nightrunner_ series. Those in the nation of Skala reside in a palace in the capital, protected by magic.

Aurënen – a nation in the _Nightrunner_ series on the Southern coast of the continent.

Zengat – a nation in the _Nightrunner_ series on the Southwestern coast of the continent. Its people are known slavers.

Sarikali – a sacred site in Aurënen. Few actually live there. It is mostly inhabited by the spirits of the previous inhabitants.

Aurënfaie – a race of long-lived people who live in Aurënen. The average lifespan is around 400 years. Most possess inherent magic, but not all can use it.

Haman – an Aurënfaie clan from the Western frontier of Aurënen.

 _fai'thast_ – an Aurënfaie word meaning 'home'. It refers to a clan's territorial possessions.

Misty Mountains – an extensive North-South mountain range, forming the spine of the continent of Middle-earth. Its inhabitants are mostly Orcs and Trolls.

Imladris (Sindarin) – Deep Dale of the Cleft. The Elven word for Rivendell, a refuge founded by Elrond in the late Second Age.

 _mellon-nin_ (S) – my friend.

Music – The Great Music, a symphony sung by angelic beings at the beginning of Time. It binds Arda and its inhabitants and tells its history.

 _fëa_ (S) – spirit, plural _fëar_. It includes the person's memories and personality.

Arda – The World That Is. The planet of which Middle-earth is only its Eastern continent.

Elven marriage bond – Elves only marry once. Other Elves can sense when an elf is married. It lasts as long as the world lasts. There is no divorce, rape, or adultery.

 _ya'shel_ – The polite Aurënfaie word meaning 'half-breed'.

Tír – short for Tírfaie. Aurënfaie for 'human,' literally translated as 'short-lived folk'.

House of the Golden Flower – an Elven family, most of whom were no longer in Middle-earth after the First Age.

Gondolin – an Elven city in the Northwest of Middle-earth. It was destroyed during the wars of the First Age. Its ruins were drowned in a cataclysm at the end of that Age.

 _Edain_ (S) – Men. Usually used to refer to three groups who were more friendly to the Elves than other humans. Came to mean all humans later on.

Noldorin – one of three groupings of Elves who went on a journey early in Arda's history to live on the Western continent. They were the only group to make the return trip to Middle-earth. Nearly all are dark-haired and grey-eyed.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own either the _Nightrunner_ series or _The Hobbit_.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this story, as well as those who took the time to review. I offer latkes, doughnuts and chocolate coins in thanks. Happy holidays to those who celebrate a winter holiday.

Chapter 2

Elrond remained in his study after Glorfindel's departure, contemplating the strange magic he'd sensed. It was totally unlike anything any magic-wielding being in Arda was capable of producing. And there was no warning of its arrival. It simply appeared, and then it vanished.

What concerned the Elf Lord was the fact that it appeared in the _heart of the valley_ , not at the border. Such a thing should not have been possible. And yet it had happened. All Elrond knew for certain was that whoever had created the magic was not evil. But who was this person? Why intrude on the Elves? And why Rivendell?

Lost in thought as he puzzled over these questions, Elrond was startled by a knock on his door. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he called out, "Come in."

The door opened, and Glorfindel walked in. The golden-haired elf was accompanied by an elf-child clad in wizard robes. Dark hair fell into the boy's face, partially concealing his grey eyes. Elrond could see confusion, fear, and a deep emotional pain in those eyes; the eyes seemed far too old for the face.

Even as he read the boy's face, Elrond also noticed the _fëa_ within. It hurt him to see what the boy was dealing with. Not even an adult, and there was the beginnings of a corrupted Elven marriage bond. It was never completed, and the interruption still affected the boy. The loss of this relationship haunted him. In addition, the boy had obviously experienced a great deal of hardship rarely known by one so young.

Concerned, Elrond rose from his chair. "Glorfindel, who is this?"

Glorfindel wore a bemused expression on his face. "This is Seregil, son of Korit. I found him in one of the less frequented gardens."

Even as he read the boy's face, Elrond also noticed the _fëa_ within. It hurt him to see what the boy was dealing with. Not even an adult, and there was the beginnings of a corrupted Elven marriage bond. It was never completed, and the interruption still affected the boy. The loss of this relationship haunted him. In addition, the boy had obviously experienced a great deal of hardship rarely known by one so young.

Concerned, Elrond rose from his chair. "Glorfindel, who is this?"

Glorfindel wore a bemused expression on his face. "This is Seregil, son of Korit. I found him in one of the less frequented gardens."

Indicating for his visitors to take seats as he resumed his own, Elrond studied the boy. 'Blood-star'? This was a warrior's name, yet he was dressed in robes like those of Gandalf or Saruman. "Have you received training as a warrior, Seregil?"

Seregil was just taking a seat in front of Elrond's desk when he jumped in surprise at being addressed. On entering the study, he was surprised to feel that the magic in this valley was centered on the young lord at the desk. There was a huge amount of power of a strength he had never felt before. He didn't understand this. No 'faie he'd ever heard of had this kind of power! He was so caught up in trying to figure this out that Lord Elrond's question caught him off-guard for a moment.

As he retook his seat, Seregil registered what he was being asked. A bit uncertainly, he said, "Well, my uncle taught me swordplay. He said I was an excellent swordsman. And... a few years ago, I served as a soldier for a few months." He closed his eyes in remembered pain, Glorfindel's comforting hand on his shoulder giving him the strength to continue. "For... personal reasons, it didn't work out." Princess Phoria catching him in her twin brother's bed had complicated his life so much. She was so jealous, she'd gotten him removed from the Royal Guard. And Prince Korathan had refused to see him again.

Elrond noticed how sad Seregil looked. Concerned, he asked, "Why does this trouble you so, Seregil?"

Looking up at the lord, the Aurënfaie shrugged. "It's not that important." No one needed to know about this.

The Elf Lord was certain it was very important, but it would serve no purpose to push the boy. Instead, he asked the question foremost in his mind. "How did you come to Rivendell?"

Seregil sighed. "I've been apprenticed to the wizard Nysander for a few years. Unfortunately, I've had difficulty with the more complicated spells he's tried to teach me. Today, I insisted on attempting a translocation spell on my own. I was supposed to go from one side of the gardens of the Orëska House to the other. Instead, I found myself here." Wherever 'here' was.

Elrond and Glorfindel were very surprised. There were only five Wizards in Arda, as far as anyone knew: Gandalf, Saruman, Radagast, and two others who had gone East as soon as they arrived. Círdan had met them when their ships docked at the Grey Havens. Hoping to learn more, Elrond asked, "How were you apprenticed to this Wizard?"

Seregil blushed. "Well, I met Nysander not long after I arrived in the Skalan court. Being distantly related to the royal family, I was given all sorts of minor positions that I wasn't particularly good at. Finally, Nysander came to see me and said I had the potential to be a wizard." The two lords started in surprise. The Bôkthersan continued, "He offered me an apprenticeship. Personally, I think he was being overly generous. I can do a few simple spells, but the results get a bit... unpredictable as the spells get more complicated." The time he turned himself into a brick _still_ amused Nysander.

Elrond considered this strange tale. He could sense latent power in the boy, but there was something wrong. He could potentially be _very_ powerful, but there was something blocking him. The block prevented him from making true use of his power. Seregil could be tremendously successful at performing magic if the block were removed.

The half-elf decided to deal with this later. One word caught his attention, though. He had never heard of a Skalan. "Seregil, perhaps you could explain what you meant by the 'Skalan court'?"

Seregil's eyes widened. Now, he _knew_ he wasn't in Aurënen. "Skala is a human realm ruled by a line of hereditary queens. It's situated on a peninsula between the Inner and Osiat Seas."

Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged glances. Neither had ever heard of these waters. And the only realm either Elf knew of that was currently ruled by a woman was Lórien, which was jointly ruled by Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. In the ancient world, the only kingdom in which a queen had comparable influence was the Elven kingdom of Doriath. And there, Queen Melian merely advised King Thingol, who made the final decisions. While the human realm of Númenor had Ruling Queens, the majority of the island's rulers were Kings. Both of the human kingdoms Arnor and Gondor had discontinued the practice of allowing female Heirs to rule.

Seregil looked at the two older men nervously. He had a feeling they were realizing what he had already figured out: that he was a long way from home with no way back. The only way he could see to get home again was for Nysander to somehow figure out where he'd gone and find him. In the meantime, he needed to know more about where he'd landed.

Finally, the Aurënfaie said, "Um... my lords?" The two Elf Lords turned from their silent communication, looking at Seregil questioningly. "I realize I don't really belong here. So, I guess the big question is: what's the general state of affairs around here?"

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow in surprise. Few elves the boy's age would have a need to know which political questions were most important to ask when entering a new realm. That Seregil did spoke volumes.

Elrond folded his hands in front of him on the desk, his gaze straying briefly to the stack of reports the two elves were discussing when the boy arrived. "Well, we have had no open warfare for close to a thousand years." Seregil whistled in amazement. Elrond merely nodded before continuing. "However, there have been conflicts of varying size and duration over that time." His two sons continued to avenge his wife's assault, which occurred over 400 years ago. "We assist in the defense of the nearby human settlements..." And the Hobbits of the Shire and the Breeland, though Seregil had no need to know of them, yet. "From bandits, orcs, and trolls coming down from the Misty Mountains. Such incursions have increased in number in recent decades, which concerns me greatly."

Seregil nodded. Any invader was bad. But... "What are orcs?"

Both elves' faces darkened in anger, recalling the origins of their ancient foe. Elrond sat back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his face. "Orcs are an ancient evil. They are a corrupt form of life, with roots going back to the Ages before the Sun and the Moon. It is said that they were once Elves, taken by the first Dark Lord and tortured beyond endurance. The result was a Race that delights in killing and wanton destruction. They especially enjoy killing Elves, though other Races are also often their victims."

Seregil blanched at the mention of a 'Dark Lord.' "Seriamaius? But..."

Glorfindel put a comforting hand on Seregil's back. "No, Seregil. We do not know of any such being by that name. Elrond speaks of Morgoth, a powerful being whose very existence predates the Creation of Arda."

Seregil nodded in acknowledgment, but he was still very pale. What they described still sounded an awful lot like what the Plenimaran necromancers did in the Great War with Skala.

Elrond noticed how uncomfortable the boy was about this topic. Hoping to learn more of his young visitor, the half-elf asked, "Why does this... Seriamaius make you so uncomfortable?"

Seregil gulped and took a deep breath to prepare himself. "He is a god worshiped by the necromancers of Plenimar. These... Eaters of Death... perform unspeakable acts of evil in his name. The magic they use is very dark. They like to use Aurënfaie blood to create necromantic demons called _dra'gorgos_ , creatures that can assume their own forms and animate dead bodies."

Glorfindel embraced the distraught Bôkthersan tightly. It did, indeed, sound like what Morgoth was rumored to have done to the Elves to create Orcs. Elrond was disturbed by the tale Seregil told.

Comforted by Glorfindel's encircling arms, Seregil continued his explanation. "There are some necromancers who have gone so far as to become _dyrmagnos_ , a dark wizard who is nearly a living corpse. Contact with such creatures... is rumored to have nasty consequences."

The two elves blanched. These beings sounded not unlike the Nazgûl, servants of Sauron at the end of the Second Age, though the Ringwraiths were nothing compared to the being calling himself the Necromancer, who had recently taken up residence in Dol Guldûr (Gandalf had his suspicions of who it was, but not all of the White Council agreed with him).

Elrond closed his eyes to center himself, reopened them, cleared his throat, and said, "I appreciate the gravity of this. However, besides some reports we must concern ourselves with, continuing this talk of necromancy at this juncture is fruitless. All you need to know, Seregil, is that you are safe from such dangers here."

Seregil nodded, visibly relieved to hear this. "That's good to know."

Elrond now turned to face the golden-haired elf. "In the meantime, Glorfindel, perhaps you should take our young guest to see Erestor, and arrange for a room. It is growing late, and he will wish to refresh himself before dinner."

The blond elf nodded, but Seregil was very uncomfortable at hearing this. "Um... I'm not really dressed for attending a formal meal. I haven't attended any in several years."

Elrond considered the problem. "I believe we can solve this dilemma. I will speak to my sons, and find you something to wear from among the clothes they wore when they were your age."

Seregil bowed. "Thank you, my lord. I'm very grateful for your generosity."

* * *

Glossary

Skala – a human kingdom in the _Nightrunner_ series. Located on a peninsula, Skala has been ruled by queens for centuries, due to a prophecy that stated they would never fall militarily as long as women of the royal line sat on the throne.

Grey Havens – an Elven settlement on the Western coast of Middle-earth. Elves would sail into the West from their harbor. In the Third Age, the Lord of the Havens was Círdan the Shipwright.

Inner Sea – a body of water that separates the kingdom of Skala from the territory of Mycena and the kingdom of Plenimar.

Osiat Sea – a body of water that separates the kingdom of Skala from Aurënen.

Lórien (Sindarin) – Dreamflower. An Elven realm South of the Misty Mountains. It lies inside a forest composed of trees with silver bark, yellow flowers, and golden leaves. It existed at least as far back as the early Third Age.

Doriath (S) – Land of the Fence. An Elven kingdom from the First Age. It was characterized by a magical barrier around its borders, which protected it from the evil of that Age. It was destroyed late in the First Age as part of internal Elven politics.

Númenor (Quenya) – Westernesse. An island kingdom of Men. Founded in the Second Age, it was destroyed in a cataclysm towards the end of that Age. Survivors of the island's destruction founded new kingdoms in Middle-earth.

Arnor – (S) Royal Land. The Northern kingdom of Númenóreans, founded by Elendil.

Gondor – (S) Stone Land. The Southern kingdom of Númenóreans, founded by Isildur and Anárion, Elendil's sons.

Seriamaius – a deity worshiped, in the _Nightrunner_ series, by the necromancers, and their supporters and followers, of Plenimar. The rest of the world calls him only 'the Dark God' or 'the Empty God.' His name is only rarely used for the purpose of instruction. Otherwise, to use it is to call down bad luck upon oneself and all in one's vicinity.

Morgoth – (S) Dark Enemy. A powerful demonic being, akin to the Valar who created Arda. He sought to rule Arda by any means, and was eventually defeated in a great battle. He was forced out of Arda after his final defeat.

Plenimar – a country in the _Nightrunner_ series, it is a kingdom that has been at war, on and off, with Skala for centuries. One of the accepted religions in Plenimar, that is an abomination elsewhere, involves Seriamaius and necromancers.

Nazgûl – (Black Speech) Ringwraiths. Human kings given magical rings forged by the Elves with the help of Sauron. Due to Sauron's influence, these Rings extended their lives and bound them to Sauron's service.

Sauron – The Dark Lord after Morgoth's defeat. One of the Maiar, beings akin to the Valar, he ruled the East of Middle-earth for millennia. He was made powerless at the end of the Second Age, but returned at the end of the Third Age to conquer all of Middle-earth. In _The Hobbit_ , he was known as the Necromancer.

Dol Guldûr – (S) Hill of Sorcery. The Necromancer's fortress in the southern reaches of the Forest of Mirkwood.

White Council – The Wizards and the most powerful Elves of the Third Age assembled together to work in concert to destroy the growing evil of the Age. Its head was Saruman the White, the most powerful of the Five Wizards.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own either _The Hobbit_ or the _Nightrunner_ series.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. I offer hot chocolate and cookies of your favorite type.

Chapter 3

Seregil explored the room he'd been given, contemplating where he'd found himself. As he'd noticed upon his arrival in the gardens, magic seemed to fill the place. This Rivendell, or Imladris, felt a great deal like Aurënen in that. Still, now that he'd recovered from the disorientation of the translocation, he could tell that something about the place felt different from home.

Seregil's room was well furnished and the view from the balcony was quite impressive. He was grateful that Lord Elrond had been so generous. He wasn't overly concerned that they hadn't offered him a bath first thing, as was custom back in Aurënen. Not being 'faie, he imagined, they had different customs in regards to hospitality.

The 'faie turned to the clothes he'd been given, some left out on the bed, with others hung in the wardrobe. The fabrics were of a fine weave, of very high quality, fit for a lord (or the son of a khirnari). Lord Elrond's sons seemed to favor blues and greens. Seregil briefly considered the idea of fashioning a _sen'gai_ for himself, but quickly dismissed that thought. As an Exile, he was no longer permitted to do so. Besides, no one else here seemed to wear anything similar.

Instead, he felt that it would honor his _fai'thast_ by wearing a tunic of the shade of green that represented Bôkthersa.

Seregil washed his hands, face, and hair in the wash basin provided, then changed his clothes. As he did so, he thought about the differences between Rivendell and home. Other than the different feel of the magic, he was strongly reminded of home. The house's open layout and many intersecting corridors and staircases were a lot like his father's home, or the house of a khirnari. Balconies were everywhere, here, much like the balconies and _colos_ in an Aurënfaie house.

Seregil went out on the balcony of his room, looking down at the gardens. The gardens were quite beautiful, and the young man was admiring them when there was a knock on his door. "Come in," he called, turning slightly so his voice would carry from where he stood.

The door opened to admit Glorfindel. Seregil had noticed, on the walk to this room, that the tall elf was the only blond in the entire house. Everyone else, Elves and the few humans he'd glimpsed, had dark hair.

Glorfindel was in awe of how nicely Seregil cleaned up. Fair skin and fine features, framed by shoulder-length dark hair, and light grey eyes made the boy look so much like Lord Elrond's twin sons, he could have been a younger brother. The elf joined Seregil on the balcony and followed the young man's gaze to the gardens below.

After a few minutes, Glorfindel broke the silence. "Well, Seregil, what do you think of the valley, so far?"

Seregil considered his answer carefully. "Well, it's beautiful. I'm strongly reminded of my home. But, you know, I noticed that you're the only person here with blond hair. Everyone else, Elves and the few humans I've noticed, look like me."

The elf chuckled in amusement. "This is because nearly all of the Elves in Rivendell are Noldorin. The majority of Noldorin have dark hair and grey eyes. Blond hair is more common among other groups of Elves, mainly the Sindar. It is not clear why, but I suppose it makes as much sense as for Círdan, the Elven Lord of the Grey Havens, to have a beard." Seregil knew that Aurënfaie didn't grow beards. Considering Glorfindel's comment about how odd it was that Círdan had one, neither did Elves, normally. This meant that Elves and 'faie had one more similarity to one another.

Then, another thought occurred to Seregil. A bit hesitantly, he asked, "My lord?"

"Call me Glorfindel."

The boy nodded in acknowledgment. "Glorfindel, I wanted to ask about... Lord Elrond."

The blond elf smiled. "I appreciate your usage of our formal titles, but this is somewhat unusual among us. Why are you so insistent on it?"

Seregil shrugged. "Well, you see, I'm the son of the khirnari of my clan." Glorfindel had never heard of a khirnari, but he gathered that this was a term for a leader of some kind. "And, well, once I left home," The boy sighed sadly, and Glorfindel could tell this was a painful topic which would need to be addressed soon. "Besides khirnari, there are no formal titles amongst Aurënfaie, but I am distantly related to the human queen of Skala. So on reaching Skala, they taught me the protocols of the Court, and tried to make me a page for a short time. At that time, I was taught that the protocols of royalty and nobility were quite strict, unless explicit permission for informality was granted."

Glorfindel was impressed and amused by the level of formality Seregil was trained for. "I can promise you, Seregil, that I have granted you permission to completely forgo my title. And I am fairly certain that Elrond will, too."

Seregil nodded. "Well, I wanted to ask about... Elrond."

"Ask. I will answer what I can."

"Well... um..." The 'faie considered how to phrase his question. "I felt a lot of magical power coming from him. I could feel it focused on him. Why is that?"

Glorfindel looked at him in surprise. Such a thing was rather unexpected, and discussion of the Three was discouraged. "That is a good question, Seregil. Perhaps we will ask him after dinner."

Seregil nodded. "Okay."

Glorfindel put a hand on Seregil's shoulder. "Come. We are joining Elrond and his family for a private dinner."

The elf led the way to the small dining room where Elrond and his family ate informal meals. At the head of the table was Elrond. On the right side, he saw two younger dark-haired Elves, who looked to be related to the Elf Lord. They looked so alike, they must be twins. On the left, sat two humans, one a little boy of around ten and the other a woman in her thirties. Both humans were also dark-haired, the woman's long braid shot through with grey in places.

Elrond rose from his seat as Glorfindel and Seregil entered. "Welcome. Seregil, I would like to introduce you to my family." He indicated the twins to his right. "These are my sons, Elladan and Elrohir." The two elves bowed their heads in greeting. Elrond indicated the boy beside him. "This is Estel, my adopted son, who was born a distant nephew I have taken in since his father's death." The boy waved enthusiastically. Finally, Elrond indicated the woman. "And this is Estel's mother, Gilraen." The woman also nodded in greeting.

Seregil bowed to them in return. "I'm pleased to meet you all."

As Elrond sat down again, Glorfindel and Seregil also took seats, Glorfindel at the foot of the table and Seregil next to the twins. Estel was excited by the prospect of meeting someone new. Gilraen seemed pleased by Seregil's greeting.

The twin beside Seregil smiled. "Well met, young one. It has been some time since we have known one as young as you. Estel is far younger, but you appear to be a young _ellon_. There have been no Elves so young for many years."

Seregil looked up at the elf. "Even among my own people, I'm still a child. But am I really so young?"

The other twin spoke up from his brother's other side. "Seregil, Elrohir and I are over two thousand eight hundred years old. The last elf born here was our sister, who is a mere one hundred years younger than us."

The 'faie looked at Elladan in disbelief. "A 'mere' one hundred years?" He turned from the twins to Elrond, then to Glorfindel.

The two older elves seemed amused by Seregil's reaction. Glorfindel simply told him, "I believe I mentioned that Elrond was quite a bit older than 430."

Seregil began to wonder just how much older. If his sons were nearly three millennia old, who knew how old Elrond himself was. And Glorfindel! He'd said he was even older!

Estel had been studying Seregil throughout this odd conversation. At this point, he cut into the older boy's stunned musings. "Are you an _ellon_ , like the twins? Or are you an _adan_ , like me?"

Thrown by the off-topic question, Seregil shook his head. Then he swallowed, uncertain how to answer. "Uh..."

Elrond smiled, but let Glorfindel answer. Glorfindel was rather proud of the boy for his perceptiveness. "That is a very good question, Estel. Because of where he is from, he can be considered an _ellon_. But he is also much like an _adan_ from Númenor."

Seregil thought for a moment, and based on the context, he understood that _ellon_ meant 'elf' and _adan_ meant 'human'. Now, he was curious what was so special about humans from Númenor. From the nod of the young boy's head, he obviously understood.

Estel considered the answer for a moment, then looked back at Seregil. "So... Are you a half-elf like _Ada_?"

Confused, Seregil said, "No. I'm a full-blooded Aurënfaie." He realized Estel's question wasn't meant badly, as it would if asked by a 'faie in a certain tone; the younger boy seemed to consider being a half-blood to be special. Then, he recalled the last word the younger boy used. "Wait a minute... _ada_?"

Glorfindel nodded his head in Elrond's direction. "Father."

Seregil nodded, then registered the implications of Estel's question. A bit hesitantly, he asked, "Um... Elrond? You... are _half_ -Elven? But... Glorfindel has the blond hair."

Everyone look very confused. Elrond asked, "Why should that matter?"

Seregil was reminded, yet again, that Elves were different from 'faie. He took a breath, and explained, "Among my people, all purebloods have dark hair and grey eyes, like me. Only half-bloods differ in appearance. Some are blond, some have red hair, some have dark skin. But those traits come from the human parent."

There were nods all around. Elrond told him, "Half-elves are a very rare occurrence. My children and I are the only ones, besides my parents. While there have been marriages between Elves and humans, in most cases, children resulting from them are human. My family was a special case.

"Glorfindel is a full elf, and there are many blond Elves, though few among the Noldor."

Seregil recalled his conversation with Glorfindel on the way to dinner. "Right. Um... does that mean that, in a way, your... tribe can be identified by the color of your hair?"

Elrond considered this. "Partially. There are other factors involved, but, for the most part, you are correct. An Elf's ancestry can be determined in that fashion."

Seregil nodded. "Among the Aurënfaie, we can identify a person's clan by the colors of the _sen'gai_ , or headscarf, worn. Some clans even have distinctive ways of wrapping theirs. My clan, Bôkthersa, wears plain green."

Glorfindel studied the boy. "If all of your people wear these headscarves, why do you not wear one? You were not even wearing one when you arrived."

Seregil hesitated. Did he want to tell these people why he was exiled? If he told them of his exile, he would have to explain why he'd been given so harsh a punishment. Then, too, there was the fact that the details were not something a boy as young as Estel should be aware of.

Elrond noticed his guest's gaze stray to the child across from him. Deciding that Seregil might be reluctant to answer Glorfindel's question right now, he changed the subject. "We can discuss this later. In the meantime, Estel, how are your lessons progressing?"

Estel wasn't sure why his _ada_ changed the subject, but he was excited to talk about what he'd been learning. His brothers filled in where necessary, elaborating on details he'd forgotten. This topic filled up the rest of dinner.

* * *

Glossary

khirnari – (Aur.) a clan leader. The khirnari of the eleven major clans serve on a Ruling Council to make decisions for all of the clans.

 _Sen'gai_ – (Aur.) Traditional Aurënfaie head cloth, varies in color and pattern according to clan affiliation.

 _Colos_ – (Aur.) A rooftop pavilion common to Aurënfaie homes.

Sindar – Grey Elves. Elves who started the journey to Valinor and chose not to complete it. One of their most famous kings is King Thranduil of Mirkwood, Legolas's father.

the Three – The Three Rings of Power made by Celebrimbor, without the direct aid of Sauron. When Sauron tried to claim them by dint of the knowledge he provided for forging them, the Elves concealed them. At the end of the Third Age, the Bearers of these Rings were Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf.

 _Ellon_ – (S.) A male Elf.

 _Adan_ – (S.) pl. _edain_. A human. The term was once used exclusively for those humans who were friendly with the Elves. Now used for all humans.

 _Ada_ – (S.) Dad or Daddy. More formally, _adar_.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own either the _Nightrunner_ series or _The Hobbit_.

A/N: Thank you again to everyone who has read this fic, and to my lone reviewer, Miriam1, I offer a special thanks. I offer sparkling grape juice and your favorite chocolate. Happy New Year to everyone!

Chapter 4

After dinner, Gilraen rose from her seat. "Come, Estel. It is time for bed."

The boy's expression was mutinous. "But, _Nana_ , I want to stay up and talk more with Seregil."

Gilraen looked down at her son sternly. "You will be able to speak with Seregil tomorrow. Go to bed."

Before Estel could protest further, Elladan spoke up. "Estel, if you get ready for bed quickly, Elrohir and I will continue our story from last night."

All signs of protest vanished from the child's face. "Really? I love that story!" Estel leapt from his chair and raced from the room. Gilraen gave the elder twin a grateful look as her son left. The twins, smiling indulgently at the boy's excitement, followed him at a more sedate pace. Seregil was reminded quite sharply of how his sisters were with him when he was that age.

As the twins left, Elrond decided it was time to return to their previous discussion, which he'd delayed up to now. "Seregil." When the boy turned to face him, Elrond said, "I would like to adjourn to a more comfortable setting, if you would be willing."

Seregil nodded, and the Elf Lord rose from the table, as did Glorfindel and Gilraen. They walked through the halls to a room furnished with comfortable chairs and a fireplace in which a fire had been lit.

The four of them settled in chairs, Glorfindel seated next to Seregil, Elrond and Gilraen opposite them. Seregil had a feeling that Elrond meant to discuss Glorfindel's unanswered question from earlier, and turned to look at the flames. Glorfindel rested a hand on his shoulder, and the contact relaxed the 'faie as he stared into the fire.

Finally, Elrond decided to begin. "Seregil, I have several questions I wish to ask. I have delayed, as I realized that these questions were on a topic you might not wish to discuss in front of Estel. With your permission, I wish to ask those questions now."

Seregil hesitated. He thought he knew the topic Elrond referred to, and had no interest in talking about it tonight, or any other night. But he had no idea how long he would be here, and these people had every right to know the past of anyone they were allowing to live in their realm. Especially Elrond, as the Lord of the land. "Well... alright."

Hearing Seregil's hesitation, Elrond nodded in acknowledgment of the boy's discomfort. "I understand your reluctance. I know this will not be easy for you, so I will not rush you to answer my questions. Just take your time. We are all friends, here." At the 'faie's nod, Elrond continued. "Now, several times, you have made reference to having left home to move to the kingdom of Skala, suggesting that doing so was not your choice." Seregil stiffened, but said nothing. "While it appears to be a painful subject, I feel it would be beneficial for you to discuss why it was necessary for you to leave your home when you so clearly did not wish to do so."

Seregil closed his eyes, as he told them, "I was punished with Exile."

The two elves were too shocked at this statement to speak. All they could do for a moment was to stare at Seregil in bewilderment that a boy so young would be punished in such a fashion.

Gilraen spoke the thoughts they were too stunned to voice aloud. "I cannot imagine what you could have done that was so terrible as to warrant so harsh a punishment. What happened?"

Seregil shook his head vehemently. "I don't want to talk about it!"

Glorfindel put a hand on the boy's shoulder, startling him into looking up at the tall elf. "Listen, young one. Our goal, here, is not to judge you. Our goal is to _understand_ you. It is obvious to me that, whatever you have done, you feel sincere remorse. However bad it was, it is nothing that cannot truly be forgiven."

The 'faie sighed disconsolately. "That's not what the Iia'sidra said."

Elrond studied Seregil for a moment. He didn't know what this Iia'sidra was, but it was obviously the reason Seregil was exiled. "Just start from the beginning. Let us form our own opinion."

Seregil looked around at the three adults. He wasn't sure how they were so certain his actions could be forgiven, even though they knew nothing of what had happened. His own people, while not knowing it all, were aware of most of it, and had decided he couldn't be forgiven. Perhaps explaining the reason for what happened would provide mitigating circumstances. He doubted it, but there was no way to know unless he tried.

He took a deep breath, and nodded. "Alright. I am the youngest of five children, and the only boy. My mother died in childbirth, so my eldest sister raised me." Elrond and Glorfindel were visibly saddened by this: among the Elves, it was preferable for both parents to be present during a child's formative years. "My father was always angry with me for one reason or another; nothing I did could ever please him. I suppose some of the things I did were a bid for some kind of attention from him."

Elrond's expression became stormy. "He obviously blamed you for your mother's death, an event which you had no control over. That he dared to do so shows how little regard he had for his youngest child. No parent has the right to do such a thing."

Seregil looked down at his lap. "Thanks for saying so. It certainly wasn't easy on me. And since my father is the khirnari of my clan, there were certain expectations placed on me as his only son. I had no interest in the politics of clan interactions, so when the clans gathered, I was often late when the meetings started for the day. My uncle taught me swordplay, and I was very good at it, but my father didn't care how good I was.

"I think I was looking for some kind of approval from somewhere, so I fell in with some older boys who showed interest in my ability to slip into places unseen. I have such skill in climbing, that my sisters, especially Adzriel, liked to call me _Haba_ , an Aurënfaie word for the little black squirrels that proliferate in Aurënen. During the fateful summer clan gathering, I met this older boy, named Ilar í Sontír, from the Chyptaulos clan. He was already practically an adult in his early 50's. Nevertheless, he seemed to enjoy spending time with me and my friends.

"Adzriel warned me to stay away from Ilar. So did my best friend, Kheeta. I ignored all their warnings and concern. He gave me the positive attention I craved and had been denied me from my father. We became lovers."

The two elves were aware that many humans chose to have relations with those they were not wedded to, but never between men! They were shocked to hear such a thing. But it certainly explained the odd sense of a corrupted form of a marriage bond. Slowly, Glorfindel said, "You... and another boy... were... lovers." It was a statement, but Seregil could hear that it was meant as a question.

"Well, it's common among both the 'faie and the Skalans. As the gathering was coming to its close, I was contemplating the idea of wearing my _sen_ ' _gai_ so as to advertise the fact that I had a lover. I knew there would be repercussions to doing so before I was of age, so I never did. It turned out to be for the best.

"Ilar said he appreciated my skills, as I explained before, and would challenge me to steal minor things from other clans. I was proud to show off what I could do, even though I knew it was wrong. So I never objected, even as Ilar's challenges grew more complicated. The final challenge turned out to be the whole reason he'd done this. The clans were discussing opening trade with some of the clans from Zengat. My father had proposed it, and the Haman clan opposed him in the Iia'sidra.

"Ilar informed me that the Haman khirnari had a document in his tent that would help my father in the negotiations. If I could get this document to him, he would be proud of me for helping him out. I went to get this document, but Ilar had apparently told the khirnari's kinsman to go into the tent as well. It was dark, and this Haman surprised me. He drew his dagger on me and I drew my own dagger. I was faster, and struck out in fear and panic. I was shocked when I realized I'd killed him. I didn't mean to do it!"

The boy's obvious distress touched all three of them. Glorfindel put an arm around his shoulders, gently drawing him close to rest his head against the elf's shoulder. Seregil wept for some time, Glorfindel holding him comfortingly all the while. Gilraen slid her chair close enough to rest a hand on the distraught 'faie's knee, tears running down her own cheeks in sympathy. Elrond also brought his chair in closer, to rest his own hand on the boy's other knee.

The almost parental way the three adults around him reacted gave Seregil the strength to continue his story. When he was able to speak again without bursting into fresh tears, he took a deep breath and resumed his tale.

"I was brought before the Iia'sidra for judgement. My father's disappointment was plain to see, and he didn't even try to protect me from the investigation. Ilar and his friends were nowhere to be found, and I was the only culprit they could blame. One other was eventually caught, but no one knew where Ilar had gone. They were going to condemn me when the _rhui_ ' _auros_ insisted that they be allowed to examine me. They are priests to Aura, and they had me brought to the temple of Aura. They never revealed what they learned, but they insisted to the Iia'sidra that I be exiled, rather than face execution for the murder. As an Exile, I am forbidden to wear a clan _sen_ ' _gai_."

Seregil was startled out of his recitation by Elrond's vehement interruption. "How _dare_ they treat you so?"

Seregil gulped in confusion. Elrond elucidated. "Yes, you had killed the man. But why did the authorities not inquire about the fact that the... Haman, you said, had drawn a dagger on _you_?"

"But... But I killed..."

Glorfindel wrapped the 'faie in a protective embrace, shielding him from the Elves' anger, including his own. "Yes, you killed the Haman 'faie. There is no question. But was there no thought to explore the reasoning? Why were _you_ the only party considered guilty, when you, a child, had drawn a dagger, but this Haman had first drawn a dagger against you? And what, did they suppose, was his intention with his weapon drawn?

"Are they so blind that they did not see that you drew and fought in self-defense? Yes, you should not have been where you were, as you have said. But the fact that _his_ first response was to draw a blade was indicative of _his_ inclination to deal violence. You drew last and came out best. This is what is done in battle. Have they no concept of mistaken manslaughter? Or are they so unjust as to recognize only that a death has taken place, and ignore any and all possible mitigating circumstances?"

Seregil blinked. "I..." He couldn't truthfully say that he never thought of that, as he had so very many times since he was caught and tried. Instead, he absorbed the comfort being given by the strong Elf, protecting him from Seregil's own thoughts.

Elrond took a moment to collect himself. Gilraen surprised everyone by asking, "And so you were sent to Skala. I gathered this. What did you do, once you were there?"

The poor 'faie fidgeted. He was glad they withheld judgement, but perhaps now they would recognize his worthlessness. Or maybe not. "Since I am distantly related to the royal family of Skala, they sought to set me up as a page. Perhaps, as the son of a khirnari, I took... I suppose you might say, I took privilege for granted. Pages are expected to be far more subservient than I ever had inclination to be, and I washed out of that pretty quickly."

A round of nods were shared - no one would have expected an Elf Prince, or even little Estel, to be treated as less than a prince. While all in Rivendell were treated with respect, there were certain expectations of privilege granted to the Lord's sons. True, they came with responsibilities, but that was also to be expected.

Seregil continued. "Someone apprenticed me to be a scribe. As I'm a fair hand at writing, I took to it rather quickly. The problem was that... Well, it wasn't precisely the scribe work that was the problem. I was foreign. I was small. I was in disgrace. And no matter that I was Queen's kin, my shame was always thrown back in my face. My fellow apprentices were bullies, and my master demanded that I give respect but gave no course for redress when I was insulted. I wasn't looking for special treatment, but being treated fairly and equitably seemed to be too unreasonable an expectation! After dumping a bottle of ink over the master's head, I quit this particular... venture."

Gilraen shook her head and sighed sadly as Glorfindel tightened his embrace.

Elrond commented, "Understandable, I suppose. What did you do then?"

A smile ghosted across Seregil's face before it disappeared into a frown of sadness. "I found favor and friendship with Prince Korathan, my many-times removed cousin." He struggled to determine exactly how much to express about this short-lived relationship, but decided that the special benefits of this particular friendship could wait until later.

"He found me a purpose and a position in the household guard. Finally, the swordplay I had learned with Uncle Akaien was bearing fruit! I had a task I excelled at, and I was finally a source of pride to myself and those stationed around me! And, of course, my friend."

Glorfindel smiled warmly. "It sounds like you found your niche."

"It could have been. Except that... Princess Phoria!" The adults were shocked at this sudden rise of anger. "I don't know what she had against me, but I guess she was jealous of her twin brother's affections."

Seregil stared off. "She caught us in a... compromised position, and had me dismissed from my post, and possible military career. And if that wasn't punishment enough, by her decree, I was to keep my distance from my only friend." And more, but he wasn't in the mood to express such, unless he was asked.

No one had more to say to offer comfort, but Seregil took what he could from the sympathy he was given. "It was the depth of despair that had me wondering why I hadn't thrown myself overboard on the ship from Aurënen to Skala, where I was once again a useless, unwanted, unloved burden."

Elrond was quite disturbed by the boy's statement that he had contemplated suicide over this. The Elf Lord interrupted Seregil's recitation, once again. "Excuse me, Seregil. I do not believe that you were truly so unloved, even before your exile. Disregarding your father for the sake of discussion, your uncle obviously cared for you a great deal to offer to teach you swordplay. And he certainly noticed your skill with a blade, even if your father did not."

Seregil considered this. "Well, I guess so. He did try to intercede for me with my father a number of times. Not that my father paid attention to him when he did."

Glorfindel added, "And let us not forget your cousin, who tried to counsel you in regards to Ilar. And your sisters certainly cared for you, as you said your eldest practically raised you."

"That's true," Seregil conceded. "But one of them was engaged to a Haman when the whole thing happened. They broke it off after my crime but before my exile, and she was furious with me. Of the others, only Adzriel was willing to even speak to me when I sailed. She was disappointed with me for what happened, but she was at least willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. As for the rest of them, I don't know if they'll ever forgive me."

"Then it is their loss, for refusing to see that it was a terrible mistake, which you deeply regret," Elrond told him.

The 'faie glanced down at his lap for a moment, in thought. "I suppose you're right. I didn't think of that." He cleared his throat as he reassessed his original thought. He tried again. "Considering that I was friendless, alone, and out of options, I sat on a bench out in the rain in the garden, which reflected my mood at the time. That's when Nysander found me."

Glorfindel asked, "Nysander?"

Seregil smiled. "My friend and current master, in my apprenticeship to become a wizard. I love Nysander." He sighed. "But beyond some of the smallest spells, I have no aptitude. I just... It's just one more thing I've failed at." Seregil closed his eyes. "My father was right. I'm just a useless brat. I fail at everything I've turned my hand to, and the one thing I've done well... Well, I'm too far in disgrace to even do _that_ correctly."

Glorfindel and Elrond shared a glance and came to a conclusion. Whatever else happened, there was _no way_ they would allow Seregil to go back to a place where he could be treated with such neglect and cruelty.

* * *

Glossary

 _Nana_ (Sindarin) – Mom or Mommy. More formally, _naneth_.

Iia'sidra (Aurënfaie) – in the Nightrunner series, this is the ruling council of the clan leaders of Aurënen. There are 11 members, one for each of the major clans.

 _Haba_ (Aur.) – little black squirrel

 _rhui_ ' _auros_ (Aur.) – Wizard priests of Sarikali, a holy city in Aurënen.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own either the _Nightrunner_ series or _The Hobbit_.

A/N: Thank you to my small, loyal readership. It's nice to know that there are a few of you out there that are enjoying this story. Hot chocolate and cookies to all of you!

Chapter 5

The next morning, Seregil stood in front of the mirror brushing his long dark hair, when there was a knock on his door. "Come in."

He turned from the mirror as the door opened, surprised to see that it was Elrond's sons, as he had been expecting Glorfindel. "Good morning!"

"Good morning!" the twins chorused.

Elladan continued, "Did you sleep well, Seregil?"

Seregil put his brush down on the chest of drawers beneath the mirror. "Very well, thank you. So what are the plans for today?"

Elladan smiled at the young 'faie. "Perhaps we can discuss them over breakfast."

Seregil nodded. "Alright. Will Glorfindel be joining us?"

Elrohir shook his head. "I am afraid not, Seregil. Glorfindel has been up since dawn, as he had a great deal to attend to today."

Seregil nodded sadly, but tried to hide his disappointment. "Oh."

Elladan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Worry not, Seregil. Elrohir and I can help you find entertainments, if you are willing."

The boy considered this before nodding again. "Okay."

The twins led him through the halls, pointing out rooms they thought he might want to be able to find again.

On the way, Seregil noticed that there was a great deal of activity going on for so early in the day. While large numbers were carrying weapons (expected when one considered that Elrond had mentioned invaders yesterday), many more were carrying piles of towels, bed sheets, and blankets. Still figuring out which twin was which, Seregil turned to the one on his right. "Elladan?"

"Yes, Seregil?" The addressed twin (who was indeed on his right, making the one on his left Elrohir) turned his head briefly to acknowledge him as they continued through the hall.

"Um... A lot of people seem to have a lot to do this morning. What's going on?"

"You see, my brother and I recently returned from a patrol to a region nearby called the Trollshaws. On the return journey, we met an old friend we have not seen in some time. His name is Gandalf, and he is a Wizard." Seregil caught a peculiar emphasis on the word that no one back home would have ever used. He wondered at that, and decided to ask Glorfindel about it when he saw the blond elf again.

Elrohir continued his brother's thought. "Gandalf is on his way here, escorting a large party of adventurers on the first leg of a quest of some importance. He expected to arrive some time today."

Seregil nodded. Then his eyes lit up when he registered the comment about a quest. "What sort of quest are they on?"

Elladan chuckled. "Gandalf felt it imprudent to discuss the details on the open road. However, the majority of the party are Dwarves, so it is likely to involve treasure of some sort."

The 'faie was a bit puzzled by this. "Why do you think that dwarves on a quest are going to be looking for treasure?"

Elrohir glanced at the boy just before weaving around two women walking in the opposite direction. "In Middle-earth, the Dwarves are a Race known for their mining and smithcraft. Of old, the great families of the Dwarves were known to have built very large treasure hoards in the great mountain halls they once called home. Over many centuries, those Hoards were either lost or stolen by dragons."

Seregil could barely contain his excitement. "You have dragons?"

The twins looked at one another over the boy's head. Elladan said, "I would assume that your view of dragons is very different from ours."

Seregil looked from one twin to the other. "What do you mean?"

Elrohir told him, "Perhaps if you tell us about the dragons you are familiar with, then we can explain how the dragons of Middle-earth differ."

Seregil nodded. "Well, Aura created the Aurënfaie from the blood of the First Dragon. The sun pierced it in the heart with a golden spear and the eleven drops that fell from the wound became the founders of the eleven major clans of Aurënen." The twins stopped in their tracks and stared at him.

He continued his explanation, puzzled by their reaction. "All 'faie have a small amount of dragon blood, and even wizards have some." To his even greater confusion, the twins stepped back in surprise and glanced at one another with mystified expressions on their faces. Deciding to talk to Glorfindel about this later, he continued. "In both Aurënen and Skala, it is illegal to kill a dragon or harm one in any way." The twins paled: their grandfather Eärendil was known to have killed a dragon.

Very confused by now, Seregil went on. "To be bitten by one is considered good luck. Their fangs have a venom which is treated with a substance called _lissik_ , which also tattoos the bite blue. These bite mark tattoos are a badge of honor that all 'faie who have them are proud to show off. The largest numbers of dragons are tiny ones the size of your hand called fingerlings. As they grow larger, they attain the ability to speak. Those that can speak are messengers of Aura, and are vehicles of great blessing to those who hear their words."

The twins, still a bit pale, nodded. Elrohir suggested, "Perhaps we should adjourn our discussion to a private room. Based on what you have told us, you may find what we will tell you to be... a bit disturbing."

Once they were ensconced in an empty room and Elladan had closed the door, Elrohir put an arm around Seregil's shoulder, guided him to a seat, and said, "Seregil, this will be hard for you to hear, especially since... Our worlds have vastly different ideas about dragons."

The 'faie wanted to cringe, but was held in place by the elf. "How so?"

Elladan recognized that his brother was going to be Seregil's prime source of comfort, so it was his job to start the unsettling news. The poor _ellon_! Elladan sat down beside the 'faie, and put a hand on the young one's knee. "Here, our dragons are also sentient. However, unlike where you are from, where dragons were a source of goodness and creation," Seregil nodded. "Here, dragons were created to be pure evil."

Seregil gasped. "No!"

Elladan nodded his head sadly. "Yes, dear elfling, unfortunately it is so. Your Aura used dragons to create you and your people, and to give blessings. Here... You have been told of Morgoth, our world's source of all evil?"

The young one shivered. "Yes, I've been told."

Elladan continued, "He created dragons about 6500 years ago, for the purpose of destroying all that was good, especially Elves."

Seregil shook his head sadly, with great cognitive dissonance. "But... That shouldn't... But..."

Elrohir hugged the young one tightly. "It _must_ be hard for you. But it is the truth. The Father of Dragons was particularly known for the evil caused by words he spoke to the unwary."

Noting Seregil's discomfort at the turn this discussion had taken, Elladan decided it was time to ease the tension. He quickly realized that Seregil had just learned that something about his people that he had always been told was a Gift was a Curse in this world. The elf considered that it would be comparable to himself or his brother learning that the Elven Gift of sensing the intentions and feelings of others was seen as a Curse in another Realm.

Quickly considering what was likely to calm Seregil, the elder twin said, "I feel it is a beautiful thing that your Aura created dragons to help your people. Could you tell us more about them? They sound like very interesting creatures."

The 'faie nodded. "In some areas, they are as common as lizards. Mostly the fingerlings, baby dragons, though the larger ones can be seen quite often, as well, in the mountains. The _rhui'auros_ will leave food offerings for the fingerlings, and speak to the intelligent dragons when Aura has a message for the Aurënfaie.

"The fingerlings are only about five inches long, with bat-like wings, slit-pupiled golden eyes, and spiky whiskers on the jaws. And they are actually very dull in color, which would surprise some who see them for the first time."

Curious, Elrohir asked, "Why would that be?"

Seregil shrugged. "While there is a law forbidding the harming of any dragon, it can't be enforced with hawks and foxes. The fingerlings can change color, like a chameleon, to blend in with their surroundings. Even so, there are far fewer of the larger dragons than the smaller ones. Those that survive have a connection to anyone they've bitten, recognizing them and all of their descendants for as long as the dragon lives."

Elladan was fascinated by this. "So your people have a very strong connection to the dragons of your world. And it is a connection that both you and the dragons seek to maintain. Do you have other ways to maintain this connection?"

"Yes, we do." Seregil spoke wistfully. "On the first full moon of the new year, we go out at moonrise to sing a song that speaks of our connection to the dragons. As everyone sings, all of the dragons in the vicinity fly in the moonlight and sing their own song, and our song becomes a counterpoint to the song of the dragons. Since I've been in exile, I haven't been _able_ to sing the song. I miss singing the song so much."

Elladan put an arm around the boy. "I understand how much you miss having the chance to observe your festival, Seregil. We have our own songs, which we value highly. Perhaps, you would like to learn some of them. In time, you will be able to join in during our gatherings in the Hall of Fire, or some evening when we sing under the stars."

The 'faie was touched by the offer. "I think I'd like that. I'm a fair hand with the harp, so I pick up new tunes fairly quickly."

Recognizing how much calmer Seregil had become, Elrohir said, "Our father told us you learned swordplay. Are you a good swordsman?"

Seregil became quite animated, to both twins' surprise. "My Uncle Akaien and several of my older cousins taught me quite a lot. I picked things up very quickly. In fact, Uncle Akaien first put a practice sword in my hand when I had just learned to walk. Swordsmanship was my first passion. I think I always wanted to do something with the sword. And part of my training also included helping my uncle in his smithy."

Elladan smiled, and told him, "My brother and I teach children swordplay and archery. Would you like to resume your lessons with us?"

Seregil took a moment to consider the suggestion. "Well, I'm probably older than most of your usual students."

The twins looked at each other. In unison, they offered, "We would be happy to give you private lessons."

Seregil was startled by the offer. Nonetheless, it took little thought to make up his mind. "I'd love that. Thank you."

Elladan smiled as he answered for both of them, "You are quite welcome. It would be our pleasure to continue your instruction."

* * *

Glossary

 _lissik_ – (Aurënfaie) A substance that neutralizes dragon venom. It also tattoos the bite blue, so the person bitten can display the bite mark as a mark of the favor of Aura, the god of the 'faie.

 _rhui'auros_ – (Aur.) The wizard priests of the city of Sarikali, ostensibly the capital of Aurënen.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read this story. I'm glad there are a few people out there that are interested in this fic. I offer your favorite type of cookies if you can guess where Gandalf's comment about Bilbo comes from.

Disclaimer: I do not own either the _Nightrunner_ series or _The Hobbit_.

Chapter 6

Early the next morning, Gandalf the Grey sat on a bench, smoking his pipe and enjoying the dawn quiet. He missed the peace of Rivendell during his long travels through Middle-earth. He had arrived late the night before, escorting thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins.

Part of the reason for their arriving well after nightfall was the fact that the party had gone off the Road in his absence and been captured by Trolls. The Dwarves were annoyed that poor Bilbo had gotten caught picking the pocket of one of the Trolls, but one could hardly blame him for not knowing that an object could be spelled to react to contact from someone other than the owner. Even experienced burglars were often unaware of such things. And it had been Bilbo's first time doing this, even if the Dwarves believed otherwise.

Thorin Oakenshield, leader of the Dwarves, was even more convinced that bringing Bilbo was a mistake than he had been when this journey first started. But the old Wizard knew that all of the Dwarves would learn to appreciate the Hobbit before this was done. On an adventure such as this, it was inevitable that something would happen that would give Bilbo an opening to show his companions what he was capable of.

The Wizard's musings were interrupted when he caught sight of three Elves walking out to the sparring fields. At least, two of them were clearly Elves; Elrond's twin sons were easy to identify. It was the third person with them that confused Gandalf. Shorter than his companions, the boy had the coloring of a Noldorin Elf, the majority of the Elven population of Imladris. But the last Elf born in Middle-earth was Arwen Undómiel, currently visiting her grandmother.

Perhaps the boy was a _Dúnadan_? He decided not, as the only humans he knew to be living in Rivendell were young Estel and his mother. Besides, even at this distance, Gandalf was certain something was off about the strange boy. The more he observed, the more he realized that he was neither a Man nor an Elf. What was he?

He looked up from his study of the boy as Elrond and Glorfindel approached. Both joined him on the bench, the blond elf glancing at the boy on the sparring field briefly before turning to face the Wizard.

Elrond noticed how deep in thought his old friend had been. "Such deep thought for so early in the morning."

Gandalf blew a smoke ring towards the sparring field. "Yes. I noticed the young one your sons are training. He has your coloring, but he feels... off. He is neither Elf nor Man. Who is your strange visitor?" The Wizard tapped the mouthpiece of his pipe against his lip a moment before continuing. "He is, somehow, a combination of the two in a way that neither you nor your brother could comprehend."

Elrond nodded. "My old friend Mithrandir, you have hit upon it precisely. The dear _ellon_ is not of Arda."

Gandalf sat back and puffed on his pipe in thought. "Not of Arda? That would explain much. Not nearly enough, but much. Please elaborate, if you will."

Elrond nodded to Glorfindel, who explained, "Where he comes from, his people, like the Eldar here, are known by Men as the Fair Folk. And yet, he has described the average life span of one of the _Aurënfaie_ as naught but the span of a _Dúnadan_."

The old Wizard took his pipe from his mouth. "Curious."

Both elves could admit that they were not going to attempt to fathom the mind of their old friend. Thinking of everything they had learned of Seregil's past, the two elves frowned.

Concerned by their sudden visible upset, Gandalf frowned in return.

Elrond looked up to see Gandalf's change of expression. He quickly elaborated. "Where he is from, the 'faie _are not just_! The boy came to us in great emotional pain. The boy was seduced by a 'faie – by a _male_ 'faie, no less – 40 years his senior. Our lad is not yet fifty, and he was taken advantage of, not only _romantically_ ," he sneered at the perversion of the emotion that had occurred, "but seduced into ethical aberrations. And when an elder lifted arms against our lad, the boy defended himself. And for killing his elder in self-defense, the _boy_ was punished! They cared not for his motivations. They only cared for the result. And _that_ is only the _beginning_ of what ails our poor _ellon_."

Gandalf dropped his pipe to his lap in shock. Frowning deeply, he announced firmly, "Most unjust."

Elrond realized that the Wizard pronounced Judgement on the 'faie. The Lord of Rivendell knew that, going forward, Gandalf would support his endeavor to incorporate young Seregil into his household.

* * *

After the early morning swordplay lesson, Seregil cleaned up and went to breakfast, accompanied by Glorfindel. The blond elf was somewhat distracted, but assured the young 'faie that all was well.

Upon entering the dining hall, Seregil was surprised to see fifteen new people seated at one of the tables. One seemed to require a large number of cushions on his chair just to _reach_ the table and had a large amount of food in front of him. One was an old man with a long gray beard and wearing gray robes. Seregil could sense strong magic around him, far stronger than that around Elrond, though more restrained. The remaining thirteen were all bearded men of varying ages, some of the older ones openly resentful toward the Elves around them.

Glorfindel led Seregil to their table, sitting near the old man and the one using all the cushions. Far from being a child, despite his size, the small person Seregil saw was very much an adult.

As Seregil took a seat next to Glorfindel, the little man looked up from his _very_ full plate. "Why good morning! How kind of you to join us. My name is Bilbo Baggins. Who might you be, young one?"

A bit bemused at the cheery greeting, Seregil couldn't help smiling. "My name is Seregil í Korit."

Bilbo nodded. "Lovely to meet you, Seregil." He studied the boy a moment. "You know, of all the people I've seen here, you look rather on the young side. If it's not too terribly rude of me to ask, how old are you?"

Surprised at the question, Seregil looked to Glorfindel, who simply raised an eyebrow in amusement. The old man next to Bilbo was having a hushed conversation with one of the bearded men on his other side. Looking back to Bilbo, the 'faie answered the question. "I'm 28 years old."

Bilbo showed a great deal of surprise at his answer. "Oh, you're still only in your tweens!"

A bit taken aback at the response, Seregil asked, "Pardon?"

Glorfindel, apparently familiar with what Bilbo was talking about, told him, "Master Baggins is a Hobbit. Among his people, 'being in one's tweens' is the period between 20 and coming of age at 33."

Bilbo nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! Have you been to the Shire, my Lord? Not many Outside have seemed terribly familiar with our ways."

The blond elf nodded. "I have. Though it has been some time since last I traveled there, and longer since I have had occasion to speak with one of your people."

"Really? My grandfather, the Old Took, was very good friends with Gandalf. And his granduncle, Bandobras 'Bullroarer' Took was the hero of the Battle of the Green Fields..."

At this point, the old man beside Bilbo turned from his conversation and interrupted the hobbit. "Bilbo, I doubt that Glorfindel or his companion have any interest in the doings of your illustrious ancestors. Few besides Hobbits would even know who you are talking about." He looked over at Glorfindel and Seregil. "I am afraid I must apologize for him. Hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss the pleasures of the table, or the small doings of their fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers, and remoter cousins to the ninth degree, if you encourage them with undue patience."

Bilbo looked down at his plate, abashed. "I'm sorry about that. We Hobbits get rather excited about genealogy and family background. The Dwarves don't like it when I discuss the distant past. They are more interested in what I, personally, can do on this Quest, not what my ancestors did on their own adventures."

Curious about this Quest, after the twins' mention of it the day before, Seregil said, "I've heard that you're on a Quest, but all I've been told is that it involves a dragon." The young 'faie became despondent at this, still uncertain about the ideas the twins had brought up.

Bilbo's excitement came back in full force. "And treasure! I don't know much about dragons, but what I _do_ know is that where there are dragons, there is treasure."

At this, Seregil stopped and thought, 'The blessings of Aura count as a treasure.' Aloud, he said, "That seems to square away with what I've also learned about dragons."

Bilbo opened his eyes wide. "Really? What _have_ you learned about dragons?"

The old man raised an eyebrow. "Bilbo..."

At the warning tone, the hobbit cleared his throat. "Right. Sorry, Gandalf.

"Back to the Quest: The primary aim is to head to the homeland of these fine Dwarves I'm traveling with." He indicated the 13 bearded men. "Thorin Oakenshield is our esteemed leader, but everyone in our party has offered me not only their services, but the services of everyone's families." Amused and bemused at the idea, he added, "I'm not sure what I would do with all this wonderful service, but I hope we will all be successful in our travels."

Seregil was startled when he heard one of the Dwarves mutter angrily in a vaguely familiar language. Uncertain what had caused this outburst, he spoke in the same language. "I hope my curiosity hasn't offended you, sir."

The 'faie was _totally_ unprepared for the reaction to his innocent statement. Gandalf, Bilbo, and Glorfindel were staring in surprise. But the Dwarves were visibly angry. The older ones jumped to their feet, all yelling at once, so that Seregil couldn't understand a word they were saying. Only one of the yelling Dwarves was still seated, mostly because he was too fat to move that fast.

Gandalf rose to his feet, standing up to his full height. A dark cloud seemed to shroud the table as the old man raised his voice over the babble. "What, in Manwë's name, is wrong with you?" The Dwarves, shocked at the display of power, all fell silent.

Seregil shrank into his seat, the sheer weight of the Wizard's anger almost palpable to his senses. For the 'faie knew that Gandalf was a Wizard of greater power than any of the wizards of the Orëska House could ever dream of.

In the silence, the cloud faded away. The Wizard now turned to the Dwarf beside him, and demanded, "Thorin Oakenshield, what in Arda are you all yelling about?"

Thoroughly cowed by Gandalf's anger, the addressed Dwarf spoke quietly, but still in an affronted tone. "Who taught this Elf child the Dwarven tongue?" He pointed at Seregil almost insultingly.

Almost diffidently, Seregil told him, "I'm sorry if I offended you. Your language sounds so much like that spoken by the Dravnians who live near my home. My family learned it so we could trade with them, as they don't usually know any other language. They're always so pleased to meet someone who can speak their language, I didn't realize it would be different for you."

Gandalf looked at all the Dwarves, thick eyebrows bristling, until all of them were sitting.

Glorfindel glared at each of the Dwarves in turn. "Such behavior is unacceptable. I realize that you have no desire for outsiders to know your tongue, but it would have served you better to ask the boy, _calmly_ , how he knew it so fluently. There was no need to frighten him with such displays of anger."

To everyone's surprise, Bilbo suddenly decided to speak. "You know, my good Dwarves, I'm quite surprised at all of you! This boy isn't even out of his tweens yet, and you're all yelling at him for knowing a language.

"I came along with you on this Quest because I recognized that you Dwarves seemed to have a great deal of honor. But I'm tempted to just give up on this adventure right here and now! There is no honor in attacking a child simply because he's good at learning languages! I may not know much about other languages, but I know that the way you've treated this boy is appalling! If this is an example of the honor of the Dwarves, I'll have no more of it!"

Elrond had entered the dining hall in response to Gandalf's display of anger, having sensed the Wizard's power. Bilbo's outburst occurred before the Elf Lord could raise his own objections to the Dwarves' behavior, which one of the Elves that had witnessed the scene had told him of. Impressed at the hobbit's speech, the Lord of Rivendell finally spoke. "Well said, Master Baggins. I can see that your words have made some impression on your companions, as well."

The Dwarves, indeed, all were looking quite ashamed of themselves. Bilbo, himself, was stunned at his own audacity. Seregil was grateful for the hobbit's support. Glorfindel seemed just as impressed by Bilbo's little speech as Elrond was. Gandalf merely watched the hobbit with interest.

After a moment of silence, the two youngest Dwarves, both looking horrified over the impression that had been made of Dwarven honor, rose to their feet and bowed very low to Seregil. In unison, they said, "Fili and Kili at your service, my Lord. We extend our most humble apologies on behalf of ourselves and our Company. Our language has always been kept most secret from outsiders, such that we keep it only as a language of lore in this Age. To hear someone not a Dwarf speak it provoked our esteemed elders to unseemly outrage."

Seregil, recognizing that such formality seemed quite important to them, also rose to his feet. Bowing in return, he answered, "Seregil í Korit at your service. I accept your apology most eagerly. I had not intended to offend anyone. I'm willing to put this unpleasant conversation behind me and try to begin a friendly acquaintance, at the least."

The tension in the room eased at this exchange. It took several minutes for the Dwarves to recover, but they soon were rising to introduce themselves to Seregil with formal bows and offers of service. Even Bombur, the extremely fat Dwarf, managed to lift himself to feet to make his introduction.

As soon as everyone had settled back in their seats and resumed eating their breakfasts, Gandalf smiled kindly at Seregil. "You are a very polite young boy. I found your response to the Dwarves to be quite mature, especially after that rather rude display of theirs. Perhaps we can speak more later. I would like to get to know you better, if you have no objections."

Seregil ducked his head, a bit embarrassed, but pleased. "No, I don't mind. I'd like that very much."

* * *

Glossary

Hobbit – A Race in Middle-earth, also called Halflings (due to the fact that they are half the height of Men), who live sheltered lives in a region they named the Shire.

 _Undómiel_ – (S) Evenstar. A secondary name for Arwen, as the last of her people to be born in Middle-earth.

 _Mithrandir_ – (S) Grey Wanderer. Another name for Gandalf.

 _Dúnadan_ – (S) Man of the West. Pl. _Dúnedain_. A descendant of the survivors of the destruction of the island of Númenor.

Manwë – King of the Valar, angelic beings who helped to create the world. His special purview is the sky, and the Eagles of the Misty Mountains serve him as messengers.

Dravnians – A group of humans in the _Nightrunner_ series. Particularly small, dark-skinned, and dark-haired, the language they speak is completely unrelated to any other language in that world, partly due to the isolation of their villages.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hobbit_ or the _Nightrunner_ series.

A/N: Thanks again to all who have read this fic, and added it (and me) to your assorted lists. A special thanks to haljordan123, the newest reviewer to this story. I hope the rest of you are also enjoying this story, as I see that there are now 91 hits to this story, as of the posting of this chapter. To all of my readers, I offer chocolate of your favorite kind.

Chapter 7

Later that morning, Gandalf met Seregil and Glorfindel in one of the more private gardens. A fountain played in the center of the garden, the sound of flowing water combining with the scents of the flowers to create a feeling of calmness. The three of them sat together near the fountain, Gandalf pulling a pipe and pouch from his robes.

As he poured a measure of what Seregil recognized from its smell as tobacco, Gandalf said, "So, young Seregil. Elrond tells me you apprenticed to be a wizard." The old man closed the pouch, tamped the tobacco down, and lit the pipe. He puffed it alight as he sat back to study the 'faie beside him.

Seregil's face fell. "Yes, sir. I did, but it didn't work out very well. My mentor, Nysander, has been like a second father to me. I've worked _so_ very hard to do _everything_ he's asked of me. But except for... a common 'faie spell to calm dogs, _nothing_ has worked right. Either a spell I try does nothing, or it goes hideously wrong. I tried magically lighting a candle, and the table split in half. I tried summoning butterflies, and the horses went mad."

Seregil gulped, tears streaming down his face. "I tried to teleport across the lawn of the Orëska garden, perhaps a hundred yards, and I ended up _here_!"

Glorfindel embraced the distressed _ellon_.

Gandalf waited until the wave of emotion petered out. Then, he asked kindly, "Do you know the cause for this magical malfunction?" He handed the 'faie a handkerchief.

Seregil dried his eyes. "We don't know. Nysander says it's some kind of block, but no one could say why it is." Glorfindel laid a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

Gandalf puffed on his pipe in thought for a moment. "Would you care to demonstrate one of these spells for me? It need not be anything elaborate."

The 'faie hesitated, then slowly nodded. He could choose a spell that usually had less disastrous results than others. Seregil noticed a large rock on the edge of a nearby gravel path. He took a deep breath to focus, then cast the spell for moving objects.

Surprisingly, the spell worked the way it was supposed to! The rock lifted up and moved to a spot on the grass a foot away from its starting point, as Seregil intended. Stunned, he looked between Gandalf and Glorfindel, and said, "I've never been able to do that before! A salt cellar I tried that spell on fell over, then caught fire, and then flew at either my head or Nysander's! This..." He indicated the rock and shrugged in confusion.

Glorfindel smiled at him, pride in Seregil's accomplishment shining in his eyes. "Clearly, the block Nysander spoke of is not complete."

The Wizard sat in thought, pipe emitting a lot of smoke as he considered everything he knew. Finally, Gandalf spoke. "Perhaps, Seregil, the fact a rock is heavier than a salt cellar helped to stabilize this spell, this time. As to casting other spells, I believe I can dispel the block. Then, I can help you with your control. When my companions are ready to continue on their Quest, I shall leave you to practice on your own until my return. Then, you can show me your progress at that time."

Seregil's face lit up at the thought of being able to do magic successfully on a regular basis. This was especially exciting for Seregil, because the declarations of pride he received for his achievements by the adults in his life had been very few and far in between.

Seregil remembered that his Uncle Akaien was proud of him for his achievements in swordplay. While Uncle Akaien's compliments always made him smile, Seregil was painfully aware that, no matter _what_ he did, he could never have the praise of his father.

Nysander was generous with both his praise and his criticism. However, the old wizard showered him with praise when it came to his willingness to learn, his aptitude in languages, and other displays of Seregil's mental acuity. Nysander congratulated him when he succeeded.

Unfortunately, Seregil often felt hollow, because of his lack of success in working magical spells. He was always grateful for Nysander's encouragement, but even he could tell that his current failure in translocation would have spelled the end of his apprenticeship under Nysander.

But here, Gandalf asked about Seregil performing magic. And to his surprise and delight, he was successful in performing the magic! Between these Elves and Gandalf, they treated him with the unconditional love that he never received from his own family, with the possible exception of cousin Kheeta and Uncle Akaien.

For the first time in his life, more than one adult was showing pride in what he could do. And they were encouraging him to do more! Perhaps, he could indulge himself, and act like the child he was never able to be. Responding to Gandalf's invitation to remove the block on his magic, Seregil exclaimed, "That would be wonderful! Could you? When would you do it? Will it take long?"

Gandalf chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm. "I can do it right now. It will not take long, at all. I do not expect it to be painful, but you may feel strange when the block is released." The Wizard carefully poured the ash from his pipe on the ground, grinding it into the dirt with a heel.

At a gesture from the old man, both teacher and soon-to-be student stood up, Gandalf holding his staff upright between them. A lance of white light shot out of the top of the staff, the beam touching Seregil over his heart. The 'faie gasped in surprise as an odd feeling swept through him, then the light faded.

As Seregil puzzled over the sensation he'd experienced, Glorfindel asked, "Are you well, Seregil?"

The 'faie looked up at the elf. With awe in his voice, he answered, "Yes. I'm just... I don't know. I can't explain how I feel."

Gandalf smiled gently at the boy. "Would you like to try something? We can see how your magic fares without the block."

Seregil nodded. "Yes. I'd like to try that." He grinned as he walked over to the fountain and knelt on the ground. If it worked, this would be fun! "Seregil í Korit Solun Meringil Bôkthersa, let thy inner symbol be revealed!"

To the surprise of both elf and Wizard, the clothing Seregil wore collapsed in on itself. Somewhere inside the clothing, something squirmed around, slowly shoving fabric aside. In moments, a furry snout with whiskers poked out, followed by a blunt head, then a sleek, furry body that ended in a long tail.

The otter waddled out of the pile of clothes, slowly raising itself onto its hind legs. Then, it hoisted itself up onto the lip of the fountain, slipping into the water. As it floated on its back in the water, the animal suddenly spoke. "Oh, it's been so long since I've done this! I love it when Nysander does this spell."

Shaken out of his surprise, Gandalf said, "Is it common for a person affected by this spell to be able to speak?"

Seregil the Otter nodded. "Oh, yes. If the person isn't caught up in the animal's mind, it's quite common to be able to speak normally."

Glorfindel shook his head to clear it. This was a lot to take in. Young Seregil was able to transform himself into an animal. "Can you change back?"

"I can try to," the otter told him. It flipped itself over to swim to the side of the fountain. Climbing out, it carefully lowered itself onto the ground, before shaking itself to dry its fur. He settled near his clothes, back turned to his companions, before speaking the command that returned him to normal.

The audience of two waited until Seregil was dressed again. Then, Glorfindel rested a hand on the 'faie's shoulder. "That was quite impressive, young one."

Seregil smiled shyly. "Thank you."

Gandalf joined them. "I agree with Glorfindel. This was quite impressive. I have rarely seen this type of transformation before. I believe that you and I can learn much from each other. I look forward to working with you."

Seregil's answering smile told the Wizard all he needed to know. This would, indeed, be a productive learning experience.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks, again to all of you who have read and reviewed this story and added it to your Favorites and Alerts lists. I offer grape juice and Hamantaschen with your favorite filling.

Disclaimer: I do not own either _The Hobbit_ or the _Nightrunner_ series.

Chapter 8

A few days later, Seregil sat in one of the gardens with Glorfindel. The blond elf was giving the 'faie a lesson on the history of Arda. Glorfindel was explaining the work of the Valar and Maiar at the very beginning, as they built the world from its very foundations.

Seregil was fascinated by this. "So the Valar are _instruments_ of the Will of Eru?"

"Indeed, Seregil," Glorfindel told him. "Even Morgoth's deeds ultimately served Eru. No matter how much he strove to rule Arda by his own desire, his deeds were woven into the tapestry of Arda's History in the same way his thoughts were woven into the Themes of the Great Music."

Before Seregil could respond to this, a shimmering vortex appeared. Both teacher and student jumped to their feet. Seregil stared at the vortex and murmured, "It's a translocation portal." Glorfindel wrapped his arms protectively around the boy as a figure stepped through.

The figure coalesced into an old man with a long, grey beard wearing shabby robes. His worried expression became a relieved smile when he saw the 'faie. "Seregil." He started to reach for the lad, but he visibly restrained himself when Glorfindel tensed.

Seregil straightened himself. "Nysander?" He moved to reach out to the wizard, but Glorfindel held him back.

Nysander smiled in understanding of the elf's protective stance. "It appears you have found some very good friends here."

Seregil looked up at Glorfindel questioningly. At the elf's nod, he said, "Yes. I've made some _very_ good friends."

Nysander noted his apprentice's willingness to take direction from the tall blond. For as long as Nysander had known the young 'faie, Seregil had resented authority. Trust came dear, and it took a lot to gain it of the boy. Seeing him so accepting of an adult he hadn't known long left the wizard feeling vaguely sad for himself. Nevertheless, he heartily approved of it.

Assured by Seregil's tone of voice and stance that the stranger was no threat, Glorfindel asked, "So, young _ellon_ , who is this?"

Seregil cleared his throat, adopting a more formal stance as he made the introductions. "Glorfindel, meet Nysander í Azusthra Hypirius Meksandor Illandi. Nysander, this is my friend Glorfindel of Rivendell, formerly of Gondolin."

Puzzled by the lack of a patronymic, Nysander cocked his head in curiosity.

Glorfindel smiled in understanding of the wizard's confusion. "That is as accurate and useful a name as you will get. There are so many centuries between now and when my father was last on this continent, that it would be useless as a point of reference for someone as young as you, my good Nysander."

This was only more confusing for Nysander. He was a good couple centuries old. This Glorfindel looked no older than his mid-thirties.

The blond elf was amused by the wizard's obvious confusion, as the man had no concept of how Elves age, but he swiftly recalled his manners and his duty, momentarily forgotten in his surprise at the man's manner of arrival. "Welcome to Rivendell. It is only appropriate that I escort you, our guest, to meet Lord Elrond."

* * *

When the three arrived at Elrond's office, they found him in conference with Gandalf.

"The Men living in and around the Misty Mountains have recently reported troubles around the High Pass. The patrols I have sent to investigate have seen signs of goblins. There appears to be an opening there into their caves," Elrond was saying as they approached the door, left ajar to allow a cross-breeze with the open balcony door.

"I shall have to refresh my memory on the other route," Gandalf noted. "I trust the maps can be found in the same place?"

Elrond chuckled. "Erestor ensures that the libraries remain well-organized. He would be quite put out if anyone should misplace any document."

Judging this to be a good point to enter, Glorfindel knocked firmly before stepping into the office. As both people seated turned to the door, the golden-haired elf bowed his head briefly. "My apologies for the interruption, Lord Elrond. I felt it important to bring this guest to you immediately."

Elrond nodded to his friend. "Not at all, Glorfindel. Please come in."

Once Nysander crossed the threshold, he recognized that he was in the presence of two beings of the power of Illior. The younger of the two reminded him of Aurënfaie wizards, the First Orëska, who had introduced magic to the humans of Skala and Mycena.

Gandalf turned to face the man who appeared to be a wizard who entered behind the elf and Seregil. "So you must be the wondrous Nysander."

Nysander, fully aware that his master, Arkoniel, was already ancient when he had begun his apprenticeship, seemed to sense that Gandalf was many times older and more powerful. The sense of Gandalf's power and its purity made the elderly human stand straighter. Gandalf's presence felt like that of a greater messenger of Illior; not an owl, but the Oracle, or perhaps what 'faie visiting the Orëska House had described an Elder Dragon's presence to be like. Either way, Nysander felt as though he was about to hear a divine pronouncement.

He reminded himself that he was asked a question. "I am. And whom do I have the honor of greeting?"

Elrond and Gandalf appreciated the formality in how the question was phrased. They also found themselves amused by Nysander's reaction when he looked at them, as they recognized that he could sense their hidden power.

Glorfindel cleared his throat and made the introductions. "May I introduce Lord Elrond Eärendilion, the Lord of Rivendell. And this is the Wizard Mithrandir, or rather Gandalf. " Glorfindel's eyes lit up in mirth as he finished, aware of where the Wizards came from. As a part of their mission, they had not given their names. They had allowed those they met to name them.

Gandalf was also amused by the introduction. He had other names, but the two Glorfindel gave were how he was known here in Rivendell. Nysander was, once again, confused. Why should a messenger of Illior be amused by the names he was given? The two wizards took each other in.

Gandalf stroked his beard in contemplation. "So I have _you_ to thank for taking care of young Seregil, here, allowing him to grow into his potential to the best of his ability to the best of _your_ ability. You have appreciated his mental acumen, stimulated his imagination, and boosted what remains of his morale. He has quite a journey's worth for a recovery to be complete, but from what _I_ understand, you have single-handedly helped him better than any person, human or otherwise, until he came here."

Nysander was touched by this. He bowed to the older Wizard. "Thank you for that assessment, my Lord." Then, he turned to Seregil. "And what have you been doing here?"

Seregil took a steadying breath. "I'm being treated like I was in the only places I've ever thought of as home. I've been training at swordplay with Elrond's sons. I'm learning local history." With a brief smile, he added, "The culture still confuses me, but for the first time in my life, I've been allowed to make mistakes.

"And..." he choked up as he recalled his father, "and even with my faults, this is the first real time I can remember feeling unconditional love, besides you, my uncle Akaien, and _maybe_ my oldest sister. I'm _allowed_ to not be perfect! I never _was_ perfect before, but here, everything I am is encouraged. I learn and write music, poetry, and new languages, and I get to act my own age."

Knowing that the humans of Skala didn't understand Aurënfaie, Nysander understood what Seregil meant. He gave the boy a moment to collect himself.

Seregil suddenly broke into a huge grin, excitement coloring his words. "Nysander, we fixed the problem! I can do magic! My _own_ magic! And it really works!"

Nysander smiled at the young 'faie's excitement. He was genuinely happy for Seregil, though slightly sad for himself. "Seregil, that's wonderful! And who has succeeded in teaching you where I failed?" His question was tinged with amusement.

Gandalf stood up to better face the visitor. "It is not so much that you failed, for you did not. You succeeded beyond your imagination. What you perceived to be a failure was a block. An intangible impediment. No mortal examiner would have the ability to perceive the source of the block, much less remove it."

This statement prompted Nysander to offer, "If it is not impertinent, why do I sense from you that your form of a man is merely a choice? That your reality is closer to that of an Elder Dragon of Illior?"

Elrond and Glorfindel looked at one another worriedly. Would Gandalf be mortally offended by such a comparison? Then, they recalled what Seregil had said about dragons, and they both noticed Seregil's eyes light up with joy.

Gandalf smiled fondly at both Seregil and Nysander. At the Elves' surprised looks, the Wizard explained, speaking mostly to Nysander. "Young Seregil has explained the function of dragons in your world. As a messenger from a 'god,' as you would, the patron of magic and wizardry, giving great favor to the Elves, or the Fair Folk," he took his pipe in his hand, "it would not have been my first inclination to say so, but based on _your_ definition of an Elder Dragon, I would say that is astonishingly accurate."

The Elves were taken aback by Gandalf allowing himself to be called a dragon. But based on the present company, they supposed it made sense.

Gandalf, seemingly aware of where their thoughts had gone, nodded firmly. "In any other context, you are right: I would be eternally offended. But context... context is everything."

* * *

Glossary

Arda – the world on which Middle-earth stands.

Valar – the Powers (sing. Vala). The equivalents of archangels, they built Arda at the beginning.

Maiar – beings of lesser Power (sing. Maia). The equivalents of angels, they serve the Valar. Sauron is of their company, as are the Five Wizards.

Eru – the One. The Deity who created the Valar, the Maiar, and all of the fabric of Arda.

Morgoth – a Vala, also known as Melkor, he went renegade, and as the Great Enemy of the First Age of Arda, he introduced all kinds of evil into the world. He was defeated at the end of the First Age, and banished to the Outer Void.

Great Music – the Song sung by the Valar, Maiar, and others of their kin, before the Creation of Arda. It tells the History of Arda, in every detail. Knowledge of the Music allows the Valar to have a measure of foreknowledge of future events. Elves also have an innate sense of their own place in Arda's History.

 _ellon_ (Sindarin) – male Elf. Pl. _ellyn_.

Gondolin – an Elven city that was destroyed by Morgoth's forces in the First Age. Its location had been kept secret until just before its destruction. There were few survivors to tell the tale.

Misty Mountains – a vast mountain range, separating the lands of the East from the lands of the West, that stretches almost the entire length of the continent of Middle-earth. This mountain range was traversed in _The Hobbit_.

Goblins – a Race of evil creatures who dwell in caves in many of the mountain ranges of Middle-earth. A variety of Orc, they are believed to be bred from Elves that were captured and corrupted by Morgoth.

Skala – a human kingdom in the world of the _Nightrunner_ series. They are ruled by a Queen.

Mycena – a human realm in the _Nightrunner_ series. It is a conglomeration of self-governing towns and villages protected by Skala.

Illior – a deity of the _Nightrunner_ series. Also called the Lightbringer and Aura. He is the god of the moon, wizards, Aurënfaie, and the insane. His totems are owls and dragons, which serve as his messengers.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story and added it to your assorted lists. I offer chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate in thanks. I hope you enjoy this, the final chapter of this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own either _The Hobbit_ or the _Nightrunner_ series.

Chapter 9

There were several moments of quiet contemplation after Gandalf's pronouncement. No one seemed certain what to say, at this point. Gandalf merely studied Nysander, the human wizard's next words being likely to determine the direction the conversation would take.

Finally, Nysander looked at his young apprentice. "I suppose we must now decide what you will do next. If you're willing, Seregil, you can come home with me. With the block removed, you can continue your training with me to become a wizard."

Seregil hesitated, uncertain of what he wanted. Elrond had no hesitation, and answered for him. "I do not think it would be good for him to return. There is little to no justice in your realm."

Nysander opened his mouth to object, but the half-elf shook his head. "Nysander, Seregil is distantly, but nevertheless, related to your Queen. But rather than raise him up, he was treated poorly by nearly everyone he came in contact with for the entire time he was in Skala.

"The scribemaster he worked under did little but ignore Seregil's intelligence and squash his creativity. His skill went unrecognized and was wasted in simple tasks he found too limiting. When his peers engaged in inappropriate behavior towards him, the corruption of your society meant they were not reined in. He was different, and therefore unworthy of consideration."

Seregil and Nysander both paled at Elrond's statement. Elrond spoke the truth, but Seregil never expected his tale to be spoken of so baldly. Certainly, the novelty that someone actually _defended_ him surprised Seregil... and the young 'faie wasn't sure if he remembered if he told Nysander the details to come to a similar conclusion on his own.

Nysander _had_ heard of what had caused Seregil to leave the scribes. The 'faie had come into work that day, prepared to work on copying an old volume, only to be insulted vilely by one of the other scribes. Furious with the magnitude of the insult, Seregil had struck him with the book. The other scribe swung at him and missed.

Seregil had been about to strike back when the scribemaster stopped him, expressing more concern for the destroyed book than Seregil's insulted honor. The master slapping him was the final straw, and the 'faie had reacted by dumping the bottle of ink on the master's head and leaving.

The fact that the scribemaster had no thought for Seregil's personal honor or emotions was yet one more example of how badly Rhíminee society had failed Seregil. It shamed Nysander that this Elf, who seemed more "'faie" than the 'faie, was able to pinpoint precisely how unjust Skalan society seemed to be.

Elrond continued. "Seregil was content to be a soldier, but his personal emotions were _completely_ discounted by his cousins."

Nysander was surprised. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, his very own cousins."

Gandalf snorted, pulling out his pipe and tobacco as he resumed his seat.

Elrond glared at Nysander. "The Crown Princess, out of a _fit of pettiness_ , threw him down, _yet again_.

"While in _your_ care, he has grown and thrived. But he would _still_ be subject to dealing with these unjust authority figures who do not care for _him_ , but how they can _use_ him. And not even that, because they were willing to _waste_ a perfectly good soldier over a princess's jealousy and a prince who could not be bothered to support his friend and cousin."

Nysander's tone was firm as he told the elf, "The Orëska would protect him."

"No," Glorfindel scoffed. "They would not. While wizards may be a column unto themselves, they are still ultimately answerable to your Queen of Skala. And if the Princess Royal has no value for him, why should that change when she becomes Queen?"

Nysander was silent, but the temperature of the room lowered by a degree as Gandalf took his pipe from his mouth to make his pronouncement. Nysander braced himself as the old Wizard's face portended bad news.

"The Aurënfaie are _most_ unjust," the Wizard declared.

Nysander cocked his head. He might have thoughts in that direction regarding the embargo between Skala and Aurënen because of the unknown fate of the 'faie Consort Lord Corruth í Glamien. The 'faie had blamed all of Skala for his disappearance when the Consort of Queen Idrilain I vanished without a trace. But what did this Dragon-Wizard have against the 'faie?

"The boy was seduced into morally questionable activities by one forty years his senior. When accosted by an adult who raised arms against him, young Seregil here defeated the aggressor. But rather than seek out the source of violence, the motivations of all involved, the Council of Elders simply judged the boy as a Kinslayer."

This caused a shiver to pass through both of the Elves. Glorfindel had witnessed the first slaughter of Elf by Elf when the Noldor left Valinor, led by King Fëanor in a mad attempt to avenge his father's murder by Morgoth. While neither Elf had witnessed the second, Elrond had been a youth at the third, and both had been led by Fëanor's sons. History called them the Kinslayings.

Nysander also felt the emotional impact. His master, Arkoniel had told him the story of the ascension of Queen Tamir the Great. The young queen had been hidden, disguised as a boy from birth to escape the slaughter of every female heir to the throne perpetrated by her uncle. The murders were part of a plot to prevent the continuation of female rule in Skala. The usurping king had set aside the prophecy that had led to the rise of Ruling Queens, until it was clear that it was still in force and Queen Tamir could come out of hiding to take her rightful place on the throne.

Looking around at his companions, Gandalf noted their reactions to his statement, and continued. "No inquiry was made. Only a judgment was pronounced against the victor of an armed conflict."

Nysander was, once again, struck by Gandalf's statement. The wizard found his eyes truly opened by these people. He knew the 'faie hadn't tried too hard to learn the truth of what happened. But to have these outsiders explain how badly Seregil was served by his own people left him wondering what the boy had to go back to.

Gandalf nodded as he recognized that the old man was becoming aware of the truth of Seregil's situation. "No inquiry was made concerning the boy's motivations. Yet the boy was sentenced with disgrace and exile, when he might have actually been, if not entirely in the right, certainly not as extremely in the wrong as he was judged to be.

"Was the death a wrongful death? Was it murder? Was it self-defense? No one thought to question. This blind 'judgment' without care to facts or motivation is _not justice_. The 'faie are most unjust."

Nysander lowered his head. Yes, the 'faie had given great gifts to the world. His own and other wizards' magic had allowed Illior's influence to spread through Skala, Mycena, the Dravnians, and some areas of Zengat. The 'faie ancestry of human wizards had given humans a small taste of what it was like to have an extended lifespan. Sadly, he considered that, despite all of this, the 'faie had forgotten about giving basic justice. "I agree. Their treatment of Seregil was most unjust."

Gandalf inclined his head in acknowledgment. "The Aurënfaie have no sense of justice or honor. The Skalans know not how to appreciate," he extended a hand toward Seregil, " _this_ young 'faie. While the wizards may appreciate his potential, and you, _personally_ , appreciate Seregil for who he is, if you truly love this young 'faie, you will leave him here, in a society that is capable of nurturing him with unconditional love, which no mortal being, save _you_ , has been able to show him for the entirety of his short life."

Seregil could no longer stay silent, and objected to this. "What about Uncle Akaien?"

Gandalf raised an eyebrow and nodded to the boy in acknowledgment. "True. Your uncle loves you, and misses you. But you have no access to him."

Nysander felt terribly defeated. He could admit to himself that every last word Gandalf, or Mithrandir, had said was the absolute truth. He bowed his head in the Wizard's direction. "I understand, my Lord." He put a hand on Seregil's arm. "I understand what your Elven friends and... and Gandalf have said. You know that _I_ love you very much. You know that, right, Seregil?"

Seregil thought for a moment before answering, "Yes. And I love you."

The old wizard smiled gently. "Now, what would you like to happen, now?" At Seregil's look of pure panic at having to choose, Nysander held up his free hand, "No one will think less of you for _any_ decision you make. I promise." He looked around at the other three adults. "Right?"

Gandalf and Elrond both nodded. Glorfindel stated, "Of course."

Seregil lowered his head in thought for a few moments before looking back up at the old man. "Nysander, if I stay here, would you visit me sometimes?"

"I will certainly try," Nysander assured the boy. "It is hard to traverse the various planes of existence, but not impossible. I did it once. I will try to do it again."

The 'faie nodded. "If you're sure it's alright, I would prefer to stay here. I _will_ miss the dragons and Bôkthersa, Uncle Akaien, Kheeta, and Adzriel. But, besides them and you, I have no one there. Here, I have people who will accept me for who and what I am, no matter _what_ mistake in judgment I may make."

Nysander hugged him tightly. "I shall miss having you for my apprentice." His eyes twinkled with unshed tears. He smiled mischievously. "But, perhaps you have not entirely lost the apprenticeship to become a wizard."

Gandalf smiled. "No, he has not." He leaned back in his chair. "An apprentice Wizard. Hm!" He chuckled at the idea.

* * *

It had been several months since Seregil's accidental translocation to another plane. While people had asked him what happened to his apprentice, Nysander had said little to anyone about the young 'faie's disappearance. Today, he was having tea with Queen Idrilain II. Even to her, he had given only a brief explanation of where her kinsman had gone.

As they drank their tea, Idrilain decided to seek a clearer answer than she had received before. She had received a letter from Seregil's sister, Adzriel. The 'faie woman expressed concern for her brother and how he was adjusting to life in Skala. Tonight, she hoped to learn something, so she could give Adzriel a real answer to what was happening with Seregil. "So, Nysander, what ever became of Seregil? After all this time, you haven't told me much about where he went."

Nysander smiled at the Queen. "As his kinswoman, I suppose I should have told you sooner. He's fulfilling the Will of Illior, being personally apprenticed by one of His Elder Dragons."

Idrilain frowned in confusion. "But there _are_ no dragons in Skala. And he's been exiled from Aurënen."

The wizard's face took on a wistful expression. "You are right. He isn't in Skala _or_ Aurënen. He has found another plane."

Puzzled by her old friend's statement, the queen said, "I don't understand what you mean."

Nysander nodded. "It's like another country or world, except that it does not exist in our reality. No one really understands why they exist at all, only that they do and that there are ways to cross into them."

Idrilain considered this, then looked at the old wizard with a piercing gaze. "Is he safe there? Is he happy?"

Nysander smiled sadly. "He is probably happier now than he has ever been."

Recalling how hard a time the 'faie had adjusting to living in Skala, Idrilain nodded in understanding. "Then I am content."


End file.
